Nights in White Satin
by APlaceForUs
Summary: One-Shot M of non explicit Lemon.   Matt kissed the blonde on the forehead, lightly, and settled back against the pillows. He stared long and hard at the ceiling, the memory still playing in his mind like a film.


Nights in White Satin

"Ngh… ah… M-Mello…"

"Ugh… ugh… Yes… Matt?"

"D-don't leave me…"

* * *

"_Mail, I thought I asked you to turn that thing off for awhile… you'll get nowhere playing computer all day!" The small red head looked up at his father, over sized, orange goggles covering emerald eyes, and pouted. _

"_But Dad! You do it as your job!" he yelled back, standing up on the old looking couch placing his hands on his hips, a proud expression plastered to his face. _

"_And look where it got me…" Mail's father muttered to himself, placing his head in his hands. Picking up the half smoked cigarette, he looked at the picture frame in front of him. A woman with fiery red hair smiled bright, her emerald eyed shone with confidence. In her arms was a baby, wrapped in a light blue blanket. A man stood behind them both, his arms draped protectively around the woman, a rather stupid grin on his face. His hair was scruffy but clean and his dark eyes stood out against pale skin. Those same brown eyes were now dull and that scruffy, lively hair lay limp and unwashed upon a stress-wrinkled brow. Looking over at the small boy (he would be six soon) the man could see the painful memory of the woman he loved. The woman who had left him and their son. His hand moved to the pile of hard drives sitting on the tabletop and looked at the clock. If he didn't make this transaction and payment, god only knows what would happen to him. And if anything happened to him, what would happen to Mail? He only had half of what was required of him…_

_The small boy had shut the computer off and was rolling on the ground, making noises that strangely resembled that of a dog. The boy was talented with computers and games. He was bright; already knowing his tables and could spell quite well. He would do well in school, and hell, even university of he wanted. But now he was a carefree child, pretending to be a puppy dog, not knowing the terrors he would soon be facing. _

_The brown haired man sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, noting the stubble he hadn't shaved. Quickly he tucked his crinkled shirt into unwashed pants, picking the hard drives off the table._

"_Come on Mail, we have to go out, buddy." Trying to sound cheerful, the man pulled on a sheepskin jacket, the fluff tickling his neck. The small boy leapt to his feet, a huge grin on his face, and grabbed a game-boy. Making sure he had the right Pokémon game in it, Mail ran out the door his father had opened and waited at the stairs that lead down from their dingy apartment to the banged up old car they owned. The left head light was broken and the number plate was only half attached. It was dented beyond repair and there was a bullet hole in the top left corner of the back windshield._

_Hopping in the car beside his father, Mail buckled himself in, kicking his feet in excitement. His father never took him out, he wasn't really allowed. Securing his goggle on his head, the little boy turned on the gaming console and grinned as he felt the car's motor roar into life. _

* * *

Mello looked up at the man above him, startled at the comment that he had just made. Pushing sweat soaked hair from his face he reached up and held the red head's face between his hands, kissing him softly.

Matt closed his eyes, tears beginning to blur his vision. He leaned forward into the kiss, his tongue moving with Mello's. He continued grinding his hips, back and forwards into Mello, the movement becoming more and more desperate and forceful. He didn't want this to end. He didn't want to let reality crush this little world he had created. Leaning forward again, he kissed Mello's neck, licking at damp skin before moving up, taking the other's ear lobe in his teeth, tugging slightly. He wanted a reaction. A groan, a gasp, anything.

Mello tipped his head to the side and moaned, closing his eyes. Reaching his hands down Matt's back, he raked the red head's pale skin with his nails, gritting his teeth, as he felt him tug at his ear. Starting to feel a little worried, Mello reopened his eyes and lifted his head a little to speak into Matt's ear.

"Matt… You're n-not ok-ngh… what's wrong?" he breathed.

Matt felt hot tears fall down his cheeks and he let out a strangled breath. Leaning on his forearms, holding Mello's shoulders wit his hands. He placed his head in the crook of the blonde's neck, not letting his rhythmic motion stop for a moment. He felt Mello's hands move up to bury themselves in his hair and he sighed, shakily.

"I-I can… ah, still r-remember…"

"Remember… what?"

* * *

_Mail stuck his tongue out and tipped his head to the side as he hit the button on the consol repeatedly. Come on Pikachu, thunder shock! It's not that difficult! He thought to himself. He was so consumed in his game he didn't notice his panicking father in the seat beside him. _

_They were nearly at the destination. He had already decided that just before they got to the meeting spot, he would hide Mail on the floor behind the back seat. He couldn't leave Mail at home; they would find him for sure. But if he hid him in the car, Mail might have a chance of finding safety when the gang retreated. He wasn't a stupid man. He knew he wouldn't come back from this meeting alive. He shouldn't have had anything to do with them to begin with. But had he needed money and it seemed like the best option. _

_Three streets from the meeting spot he slowed down and pulled over. Mail, snapping out of his video game world, looked up at his father, confused. Why where they here? His father had his head against the steering wheel and he was muttering something under his breath. Matt shrank back against the car door and pulled his legs up onto the seat. His father was scaring him._

"_Dad? …Daddy? What's the matter?" he squeaked. His father gasped, as if noticing the child for the first time, and looked over at him. His eyes were red and watery; he looked like he had been crying. He looked out the front windshield and then back down at his pants. All his movements where shaky and rigid, like he was paranoid. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pile of folded paper, shoving them into Mail's hands before grabbing his shoulders and pulling him forward into a rough hug. Mail flinched back as his father lurched at him, but clutched at the sheepskin vest and buried his head in its warmth taking in his father's scent, the movement forcing the giant goggles onto his forehead. A horrible feeling began to well up in his stomach and he felt tears soak into the soft material. He knew he wouldn't see his father again. He felt his father begin to pull away and he tried to stop his crying, but only succeeding in reducing it to a quiet whimper. _

_Wiping his own eyes the man cleared his throat, looking down at the teary-eyed boy._

"_Ok, here's what you have to do. I need you to climb back behind you seat and crouch down as far as you can okay? Keep hiding for as long as you can, like your playing hide and seek. If you hear anyone call your name I want you to stay silent and don't move. Don't let anyone see you." He tried to sound clam but he couldn't keep his voice from wavering. All the boy could do was look wide-eyed up at him. With that said he undid Mail's seat belt and lifted him behind the seat._

"_Lie on your side with you knees tucked up to your chest, you can use the bump separating the foot spaces as a head rest that way if you need to…" His father muttered from the front seat, fussing over Mail's top and goggles as if to distract himself. Still sobbing Mail nodded, wiping his eyes and nose on his shirtsleeves. Clutching his game boy to his chest he shut his eyes tight and silenced himself. Like hide and seek, make and noise and they'll find you, he thought to himself as his father ruffled his hair. He felt the piles of paper his father usually kept piled up on the back seats, and any other objects back there with them, fall down on his body softly as his father tried to hide his body from direct view._

_Shaking his head and breathing deep and steady, the man started the car up again, driving towards his destination. Within the next twenty minutes it would all be over. He glanced back down at the boy he had hidden beneath the paper and other miscellaneous objects and cringed when he saw the paper quiver. The boy was so frightened. The man all of a sudden felt he deserved what was coming for him, for having to put a child, his child, through this. If Mail did survive, he would be affected for the rest of his life._

* * *

"Ah! M-Mells… Mello… Ngh-"

"Y-yes, Matt, I'm here-ngh… I'm here! I-hah, wont leave you, I promise… Ah!"

Matt felt his muscle spasm and relax as a feeling of pleasure and relief flooded his body. He felt Mello beneath him, his body reacting the same. Suddenly feeling drained; he almost collapsed onto Mello, breathing heavily, body sticky with sweat. Resting his head on Mello's chest he shut his eyes and tried to focus on breathing evenly again.

Staring at the ceiling, Mello's breath was shallow and ragged. Carefully he pulled his arms up and draped them across Matt's back and shoulders, stroking his head gently. He could feel Matt's breath start to catch in his throat and his chest start to shudder. Hot tears pooled on his skin and he sighed sadly.

"Shh… Mail, you're safe. Its okay…" he whispered softly into Matt's hair.

* * *

_The worst part would have to have been not being able to see. All he could hear was the muffled voices of people he had never met before and his father, standing just outside the car, trying to plead, beg, reason. But what really got him were the gunshots. He couldn't even count them. So many, so fast, it was over kill. The amount that hit the car and smashed all the windows was horrific and he had to bite into his hand to keep from crying out. Then the harsh 'thud' of his father hitting the car before sliding to the ground. At the sound sirens in the distance, he heard voices curse and dull footsteps as the gang ran off. _

_He waited for a while before leaping from beneath the pile of papers and attacked the door handle; almost breaking it with the force he was using trying to open it before realizing it was locked. He knew his father had told him to stay in the car, but he didn't care. The gang was gone. When he finally got the door open he tumbled out onto the hard asphalt ground. Hands and knee's slightly grazed his wiped them on his jeans before looking around the alley way he was now in. It was dark and the streetlight out on the main road gave the alley an eerie yellow glow. _

_Pulling his goggles up, he crawled forward, away from the car. He had hardly moved a meter before his hands came down into fluid, dark and sticky. Lifting his hands he stared at his wet, shaking hands. Blood. His father's blood, pooling on the concrete like a puddle of rain after a storm. It was still warm. His breathing was coming shorter and frantic as he shuffled backwards on his knees, trying to get away from the horrible liquid. _

_Then he hit it. His father's body was riddled with bullet holes and soaked in blood. Mail didn't want to turn around but he had to. His father was lying half on his side, his hair strewn across his face, dripping with blood that seeped from bullet holes in his head. His sheep skin vest was stained crimson, but appeared so much darker in the eerie half light of the alley way. Tears poured down his face. He even had a half finished cigarette in his mouth. How could someone do this to his father? Why would someone do this to his father? Beside himself, Mail tipped his head back and wailed. The sound was horrible and sorrowful. Clutching his father's sheep skin vest, he buried his face in the blood-soaked material, rocking back and forward, continuing to weep and howl, not noticing the sirens of the police cars just outside the alley._

_* * *_

Matt cried for the first time since Mello had left him behind Wammy's. He felt Mello shuffle up to rest his head on a pillow but pulled away, sitting up on his knees. Wiping the tears from his face he looked out the window that sat above their bed. The moon was full and you could hear all the trucks and cars driving on the roads despite it being nearly half past three in the morning.

Mello frowned slightly as Matt pulled out of his embrace. He watched him stare out the window and sighed to himself. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Mello placed his hand on Matt's cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. Feeling Matt move into the touch, he pulled Matt's head around to face him, kissing him slow and gentle, pushing him back on the bed carefully. Half lying on the red head, Mello moved his lips against Matt's, his tongue sliding along the other's teeth. He felt Matt's tongue against his own and bit down slightly, before moving to take his bottom lip instead.

Matt whimpered a little as Mello kissed him, but didn't protest. Just knowing that he was there, with him, comforting him was enough to make Matt feel better. Pulling away, Matt kissed the corner of Mello's jaw, before bringing his lips to Mello's ear.

"I love you Mihael Kheel, don't forget that." He breathed, letting his head fall back against a pillow.

Mello chuckled and leaned down, copying what Matt had done. He found it funny how the red head shuddered as he kissed his jaw. The tiniest show of emotion had Matt in a tizzy.

"I love you too Mail Jeevas. I wont forget if you don't." he whispered back.

Pulling up the sheets, Mello lay back down beside Matt, resting one arm on the red head's stomach. The other he kept close to his chest. He felt Matt weave his arm beneath his head so it was draped across his shoulders, the other was upon his cheek, stroking softly. Comfortable in Matt's embrace, Mello drifted off to sleep. Matt kissed the blonde on the forehead, lightly, and settled back against the pillows. He stared long and hard at the ceiling, the memory still playing in his mind like a film.

* * *

"_I'm sorry son, but I need you to tell me your name." _

_The officer was impatient and irritated. There was a gang related murder and he was stuck trying to get a mute, traumatized kid to talk to him. _

_Mail, tightened his grip around himself, his knees tucked beneath his chin. He had hidden himself behind some garbage bins as soon as he saw the police approaching and had pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He was refusing to speak to anyone._

_The emergency crew had turned up whilst the police were assessing the scene. Photo's where being taken and everyone was talking amongst themselves. Then the paramedics came out, a stretcher in tow. Mail poked his head up and peered over the policeman's shoulder and watched as the paramedics moved to lift his father. A horrible sense of dread and grief filled his being and he ran towards them, passing a very surprised policeman. _

"_NO! You can't touch him! Stay away! Daddy, No!" he cried, throwing himself on his father's body, clinging to it desperately. Some of the police and other officers shook their heads or placed their hands over their mouths, averting their eyes. They couldn't help but pity the child. His father had just been shot in front of him and he had been found, soaked in his father's blood, cowering amongst garbage bins. A few policemen moved forward to remove the child from the body but the boy screamed and yelled, lashing out at anyone who came with in striking distance. _

_Then out of the crowd a man walked forward. He wore a suit and a bowler hat and had a grey moustache similar to that of Charlie Chaplin. He wore small round glasses and carried a walking cane. A few officers asked him to leave but when he showed them his identification, they immediately moved aside. The man walked over the distraught child, crouching down to his level. The boy looked up from his father's corpse, hiccupping from crying so hard. Removing his hat the man introduced himself._

"_Hello, Mail Jeevas. My name is Watari, I believe your father gave you some important forms to hand to me?"_

_Mail looked at the man dumbfounded. Even he hadn't looked at the paper his father had shoved into his hands moment before he died. Slowly he nodded and shrank back, trying to hide behind his father's body. Watari looked down at the boy, his eyes were kind behind his glasses, as he smiled._

"_May I please take a look at them?"_

_Hesitantly, Mail reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a bloodstain pile of folded papers and handed them to Watari. He watched as he opened them, quickly glancing over the contents before nodding and clearing his throat._

"_I think you should come with me, my boy." He said reaching his hand out._

_Mail drew back._

"_Why?"_

"_Because you, my boy, are gifted. You have potential to be something so great you cant even begin to understand. Come with me, I'll show you what I mean."_

_Again Watari extended his hand and waited for Mail to take it. Looking down at his father's ruined face once more, Mail threw his arms around his neck and hugged him. He could feel the blood in his hair and on his cheek become sticky as it dried and he drew back. Wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve, he stood up, tears still falling down his cheeks. Reaching forward he took Watari's hand and allowed himself to be lead away from the murder scene. Away from his childhood. Away from his former life. _

_* * *_


End file.
